


As Subtle As An Earthquake

by heartsandmuses



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Clint Barton's Farm, Clint and Laura Barton's Family, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Minor Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Sharing a Bed, Spooning, except the team doesn't really know, until they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsandmuses/pseuds/heartsandmuses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rest of the Avengers try to set Steve and Tony up during their stay at Clint's farm. </p><p>If only the team could get their heads out of their asses long enough to see that the two are already going out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Subtle As An Earthquake

**Author's Note:**

> So pretty much everyone and their dog has done the rooming-together-at-Clint's-farm trope and I'm nearly a year late to the party, but I thought I'd give it my best shot anyway.

   Other than the facts that a) the world was ending _again_ and b) Laura Barton refused to give up her homemade lasagna recipe, Steve thought that this countryside retreat wasn’t all that bad. If anything, he considered it a team-building exercise, in the loosest definition of the term.

   All of them were definitely in need of a distraction, something to keep their minds off Ultron as they tucked themselves away in hiding at Clint’s farm. For Tony, that meant repairing the tractor out in the barn; for Steve, chopping firewood.

   As for the rest of the Avengers, however, their downtime was not spent paying the Bartons back for room and board through whatever chores came their way. No, the rest of the team was busy scheming. Conspiring. Steve found it funny that for something he was almost positive was the product of two master assassins—trained for lives of stealth—they couldn’t have been more obvious about it.

   Steve and Tony were pretty damn obvious too. It wasn’t as if they were trying to hide their relationship from the rest of the team. After the first two weeks they found it would be a waste of extra effort since the rest of the Avengers were ridiculously oblivious anyway. But they decided that, sometime during the trip, they’d tell the others. It wasn’t their fault if the team was all of a sudden so particularly blind to their not-subtle-at-all hints.

   These were the same people that didn’t catch a whiff of Bruce and Natasha’s budding romance even as it was being announced, so the bar for Steve’s expectations was only about an inch off the ground. He had to admit, though, it was nothing if not entertaining.

   The team had spent fifteen minutes this morning dancing around the kitchen playing their own version of Musical Chairs in an attempt to get Steve and Tony to sit next to each other, but they didn’t lift their heads from their stacks of pancakes when Tony had asked sweetly, “Cap? Can you pass the sugar, sugar?” or when Steve, matching his tone, replied, “If you give me the honey, honey.”

   And maybe Steve could admit that the flirting and the batting eyelashes and the playful locker room-esque slaps on the ass were not so out of the ordinary, even before they’d gotten together, but this was unbelievable. Not a single one of them knew. And if they did, they had incredible self-restraint and impressive poker faces.

   And heads so far up their asses they couldn’t see what was right in front of them, because now, they were all at it again. Steve didn’t say anything, though he did give Tony a knowing smile hidden behind a mug of apple cider. He wanted to see how this would play out.

   “Okay, Fury fell asleep reading the kids a bedtime story. But, uh, don’t ever mention that again, especially not in front of him. So. There’s only three bedrooms left and seven of us,” Clint said as they all regrouped in the kitchen a couple hours after dinner. “We’re going to have to approach this strategically.”

   “So,” Tony said without dedicating as many calculations to the problem as the rest of Earth’s mightiest heroes, “what you’re saying is, two to a bed and one on the couch?”

   Clint hummed in thought, like he’d never considered that as an answer. He wasn’t a great actor, but Steve did give him points for his commitment to the role. “Yeah, that should work. I’m obviously letting none of you sleep in my bed,” he added, receiving a swat on the arm from his wife. “Two rooms left and five of you.”

   “Bruce and I can share,” Natasha said, sidling up to Banner as he slid an arm around her waist.

   “Great. Ratio’s down to one-to-three.”

   After a pointed glare from Natasha that Steve hadn’t failed to catch (he doubted anyone in the room did, really), Thor piped up in that booming voice of his, loud enough to wake the kids upstairs, “It would be an honor to take the couch of such a humble host. Captain, Man of Iron, I shall leave the last bed for you.” He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the other on Tony’s, grinning between his two teammates. “ _A good day’s battle relies on a good night’s slumber_. ‘Tis a common saying between Asgardian warriors.”

   “Uh, thanks, Fabio, for those words of wisdom.”

   “Getting kinda late,” Clint said with an exaggerated yawn. “Should probably hit the hay.”

   “I still can’t believe you own a farm,” said Tony.

   “The _figurative_ hay.”

   “Right.”

   “City slicker.”

 

***

 

   There were two spare bedrooms, both identical in size and furniture like two copies of an IKEA showroom, and Steve and Tony claimed the one on the ground floor. It was modest, quaint, everything one would expect from a farmhouse like this. While homey, what really made Steve think of it as _home_ , even if just for a little while longer, was the man currently hogging the covers. (The covers, might it be added, that had little cartoon Hawkeye faces printed on them. Steve honestly didn’t know whether it was Clint being funny or if he used Avengers merchandise in all the bedrooms, but either way he laughed for about ten minutes upon entering.) The room was a bit on the smaller side, sure, but they could fit; neither of them minded the proximity the single bed forced them into— they were used to it by now.

   Everyone else was upstairs, save for Thor, whose snores drifted in from the other side of the house. If only they weren’t all stuck in the middle of nowhere, the Asgardian would be quite exceptional in battle tomorrow, it seemed.

   “They’re trying to set us up, you know,” Steve said, keeping his voice soft even though he doubted the rest of the house could hear him over Thor’s lack of a nasal strip.

   Tony huffed out a laugh, warm breath ghosting the nape of Steve’s neck. He tightened his hold around Steve’s middle. “Amazing work they’ve done. Getting us to sit next to each other at every possible meal, having us dice some firewood together. So romantic,” he murmured, planting a few lazy kisses where his lips could reach. “By the way, tearing apart that log with your bare hands? Oh, baby. Didn’t expect that to be as much of a turn-on as it was.” He sighed contently. “If only they could see us now. Spooning.”

   In their defence, spooning was one of the only ways they’d both fit on the bed. They’d tried every other position they could think of, not to mention a few they made up right on the spot. But this was nice enough, if not a bit of a tight squeeze. If Steve closed his eyes, he could pretend that Clint had much better taste in curtains and that the world wasn’t about to be taken over by a homicidal robot sometime soon.

   “Yeah, like this was their doing.” Steve scoffed, shuffling his position—much to Tony’s displeasure, which he didn’t hesitate to convey through a series of tired, unintelligible grumbles—until he was lying on his back. At least he could stretch out a bit now, even if he did risk falling over the edge of the mattress.

   “The effort’s appreciated, but we beat them to the punch by a couple of months,” Tony concurred, half sprawled over the larger man. He rested his head on Steve’s chest and from that vantage could probably hear his heartbeat through the thin layer of cotton-polyester. “I’d like to see what they think once they know we’ve been going at it for this long.”

   Steve carded a hand through Tony’s hair, giving him a fond smile. It was reciprocated. “I’m pretty sure they’d take credit for it either way.”

 

***

 

   Fury was the one who brought this whole thing to a close, and Steve doubted breakfast was thanks enough.

   It started when Steve and Tony woke up (read: Steve had to force Tony out of bed) to make breakfast for the Bartons and the rest of the team. Steve got dressed, Tony got decent, and they shuffled past Thor snoring on the couch and into the kitchen, where Fury stood, leaning against the counter and drinking orange juice like he’d been there all night. Steve wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t. Either way, Fury was absolutely no help when it came to cooking up the eggs and bacon, which was saying a lot because even Tony pitched in some — by slipping bread in the toaster, drinking all the coffee, and overtly admiring Steve wearing an apron.

   The Avengers started trickling in a little after nine, one after the other. First Thor, who woke up after Tony dropped a pan and subsequently exclaimed, “This is why I don’t cook!” Then Natasha, wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair dripping wet. Bruce, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Laura, the kids, and finally Clint, in his underwear.

   “Are those arrows on your boxers?” Tony snickered.

   “Don’t even start. You’re lucky I wore anything at all,” Clint retorted, and started chugging coffee straight from the pot as he went to sit down at the kitchen table.

   Breakfast went well, all things considered. Nothing tried to kill them. Or blow up the farm. Or rip open a hole in the fabric of space. The kids ate quickly and went off to play with Auntie Nat, and Laura wasn’t quiet in expressing her gratitude for the meal.

   “Least I could do, Laura,” Steve assured, collecting the empty plates while everyone else remained seated, waiting for more coffee to brew. (They went through the stuff at a rampant rate — half the team was addicted and the other half was slowly but surely getting there.) “Although, if you really want to repay me…”

   “I already told you, Steve,” she said, pointedly ignoring her husband’s gaze darting between them, “it’s a secret family recipe. You want that lasagna again, you’re going to have to visit.”

   He pretended to think about it, breaking into a wide smile a moment later. “I suppose that’s a fair deal.”

   “Are you flirting?” Clint asked, sounding genuinely confused, then turned to whoever happened to be sitting beside him. Tony. “Is Cap flirting with my wife? Is she flirting with him?”

   “No, that’s my job,” Tony assured, without thinking. He took a long sip of coffee.

   Clint stared. Thor stared. Bruce stared.

   Steve cocked a brow.

   Fury, from where he was still leaning against the counter, still drinking OJ, still looking like he had much to say but didn’t want to, asked oh-so-casually, “How long have you two been fucking?”

   Steve and Tony exchanged a deliberating look and a shrug; the rest of the team, a varying array of startled looks and smirks. They were all so taken aback that no one even thought to point out the foul language. It was a pleasant surprise.

   “About three months.”

   Clint was the first to break the silence. “How— I mean, how did we not know? First Banner and Romanoff, and now you guys? The fuck’s in the water here?”

   “Better rinse that mouth out, Barton,” said Natasha, materializing in the doorway.

   “Oh, honey,” Laura said, dropping a kiss to her husband’s temple and patting his arm in consolation. “I’ve known them for less than two days and I knew.”  

   “Nat, did you hear—”

   “Yup. Three months, they said?” she replied, and handed Fury a twenty. Then Bruce, with a sigh, gave Fury another, and Thor held out a fistful of bills. Clint was still bewildered.

   Huh. Maybe they weren’t so oblivious after all. Well, some of them, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa, so there's my first fanfic ever. Hope you liked it! :3  
> The title's from [this song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVFNFascIak)


End file.
